


Going Nuclear

by Deejaymil



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Morgan is not going to be out-pranked by a six foot geek with odd socks and a perpetually crooked tie. Reid has other ideas.</p>
<p>And just why exactly does the city of Reno, Nevada have a law stating 'No person shall place or maintain any chair, bench or permanent seat on any street, alley or sidewalk?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Nuclear

**Author's Note:**

> Five sets of eyes stared at him with varying levels of bemusement as he strode over to Reid and dropped a scrap of fabric in front of him. “What’s this?” Reid asked, wrinkling his nose.

“This is a declaration of war,” Morgan replied with a cocky smirk.

“It’s a burnt hankie,” Rossi corrected, leaning over and lifting the scrap with the end of his pen as he raised bushy eyebrows at Morgan questioningly.

Reid stood, scooping his files together and smiling disarmingly at Morgan. “You won’t win, Morgan. I’ve already warned you. You can’t out-prank me.” He left without a backward glance, leaving all eyes on Morgan.

Hotch’s mouth twitched slightly. “As your unit chief, I’m not getting involved in this. As your friend, I can’t recommend you get involved in this.”

Morgan snorted. “Come on Hotch, do you really think I have anything to fear from a six-foot geek with odd socks and a perpetually crooked tie?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

 

* * *

 

“We have an unsub posing his victims in Seattle.” Hotch fiddled with the plasma as they all bent over their smaller screens, flicking through the details of the case. Morgan kept one eye on Reid as the man leaned in so close to the file that his hair brushed against the paper.

“Could be a sign of remorse,” Reid mused, reaching for his coffee and taking a large gulp, his eyes flickering back and forth at an insane pace. Morgan tried to stop a grin as Reid’s face twitched and scrunched up in consternation seconds before choking on the liquid.

Trying to look blameless as Hotch and Emily turned straight to Morgan, their expressions disapproving, proved impossible. “Salt in the sugar pot?” JJ drawled. “How original.” Reid shot him a disgusted glare, clearly horrified that someone had dared to mess with the coffee, and sprinted out of the room muttering about granular structures.

“If you keep getting your pranks off page one of Google, he’s going to kick your arse,” JJ warned.

Hotch’s eyes twitched in what was almost an eye-roll. “You’re sharing a room with him in Seattle, Morgan.”

 

* * *

 

No one had believed him when he’d shared his theory that everyone’s knock had their own personality. They’d scoffed, but anyone who’d heard Reid’s careful rendition of shave-and-a-haircut would never confuse it with the brisk, professional rapping that was currently assailing his hotel door.

“JJ,” he greeted her as he pulled the door open smoothly. She rolled her eyes at him and held out the open files she was skimming.

“Counting my knocks again?” she asked, slipping past him into the room and laying the files on the bed. “Where’s Reid?”

Morgan gestured to the bathroom door, the soft sounds of the shower pattering through the closed door. JJ narrowed her eyes at the smirk on his face. “You didn’t actually...? Morgan! I was joking—” She was interrupted by the bathroom door opening and Reid stalking out, his wet hair plastered to his head and dripping all over the carpet with a towel slung awkwardly around his hips.

“Soap not lathering?” Morgan asked innocently. “Damn hotel soaps, so cheap. So nasty. So… coated in a fine layer of clear nail polish.”

Reid threw the bar of soap at his head with remarkable force from someone so skinny, dumping his shoulder bag out on his bed and taking another bar from the clutter before storming back into the bathroom without a word.

“Why am I not surprised that he carries around spare soap?” JJ commented dryly.

“Got any more ideas?” Morgan asked her, biting his lip and contemplating his next move.

JJ snorted, shaking her head. “Oh no, you’re on your own now. I’m not having him after me next.”

 

* * *

 

Morgan slipped into the conference room and greeted the team members gathered there. “Morning,” he said cheerily. “Rossi not in yet?”

“Nope. Nor Reid,” Hotch replied distractedly, examining his cell.

Emily was watching him carefully. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice sharp.

He was saved from answering by Reid arriving, bolting into the room and panting loudly. “Sorry I’m late,” he wheezed, dropping heavily into a chair. “Elevator was out, had to run up the stairs.”

Three agents looked from the worn-out agent in the chair to Morgan. “Elevator was working when I got here,” JJ said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

Reid looked confused. “But the sign said it was… oh.” Morgan slid the signs he’d made up across to the other agent, laughing at the expression on Reid’s face. “Morgan, you made me run up six flights of stairs _for a prank_?”

“You made it up all six flights running?” Morgan said. “I’m impressed, kid. Looks like I did you a favour. Are you going to retaliate now?”

Reid eyed him and smiled darkly. Morgan felt something cold slip down his spine at the grin on the younger man’s face. “I don’t need to retaliate,” Reid said softly, shaking hair out of his face.

The door slammed open behind them, Rossi storming in, sweaty and furious. “Who does the damn upkeep around here?” he snarled. “Bloody elevators are out, I’ll have maintenances’ head on a platter! We’re on the sixth floor. The sixth!”

 

* * *

 

“This is beyond petty.” Despite himself, Reid looked impressed, standing over his desk holding up a keyboard firmly zip-tied to a chain of stationary. “I’m not stooping to your level, Morgan.” Emily was laughing helplessly, tugging on Reid’s coffee cup and pulling open his drawers with it, chain tied together with more zip-ties.

“Stooping? Pretty Boy, to get to my level at this point, you’re gonna need wings. Scissors?” Morgan offered him the scissors, blade outward, smiling charmingly at the manic glare he received in return. Reid took the scissors with an impatient tug.

“Morgan, I’m not going to give in. You don’t want me to escalate this,” he warned, moving to cut his coffee cup free and frowning in confusion. He held up the implements, another zip-tie inflexibly holding the blades shut.

Emily choked again, dropping her head on her desk. “Oh, come on, Reid, that’s actually quite clever.” Reid hissed out air between clenched teeth, ripping open the one drawer that wasn’t tied closed and pulling out a candy sucker, ripping off the wrapper and shoving it in his mouth. Comfort candy. He was so predictable.

“I’m not admitting anything,” Reid mumbled around the candy, before making an unhappy noise and spitting it out. “Did you swap my candy with… is that candle wax?” He turned plaintive hazel eyes on Morgan, mouth twisted in horror. “You made a candle wax lollypop just to prank me?”

Morgan leaned in close. “Ready to escalate yet?”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know why there’s a law on the books in Reno, Nevada stating that it is illegal to maintain a bench or seat on any public roadway or sidewalk?” Hotch’s face was as inscrutable as always, standing straight-backed in front of Morgan’s desk holding a mysterious folder.

“Err… no? Should I?” Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair. The room was uncomfortably hot, his shirt sticking to the skin of his back. He made a mental note to phone down to maintenance and get the thermostat fixed. Hotch seemed unfazed by the temperature. “I’m sure Reid does though.”

Hotch’s face twitched slightly. “Yes, I’m sure he does.” The file thudded onto the desk. “Read that and reconsider this attempt to goad Reid into a war you can’t hope to win.” He turned and strode out, leaving Morgan to flick open the folder and examine the contents.

“Are you okay? You look a little… shell-shocked.” Morgan blinked, shaking himself awake and realizing some time had passed since beginning to read. Emily and JJ stood in front of him, watching him with concerned expressions. Morgan pushed the folder towards them, his eyes wide.

“Someone surrounded the roadways outside a school in Reno with stolen park benches and was never caught?” JJ asked incredulously. “Impressive. And relevant, how?”

Reid strolled in holding, for some inexplicable reason, an umbrella and a large book. “Hey guys, Garcia made brownies. They’re delicious. Hot in here—is your thermostat out?”

“How many park benches are there in Reno?” Morgan asked Reid, unable to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

Reid blinked, something almost like guilt flickering over his face. “Two thousand, five hundred and seventy-three,” he said without missing a beat.

Emily stared at him. “Really?”

His voice was deadpan. “No, of course not. How could I possibly know the amount of park benches in a town in Nevada I have never lived in?” He slumped into the chair across from Morgan, umbrella hooked on one arm and book falling open in his lap.

Morgan eyed the newspaper clippings and Reid, contemplating the possibility that according the date on the newspaper, Reid had somehow shifted over four-hundred park benches in one night without being caught and surrounded a school with them. In a town he didn’t live in. At fifteen—causing a law to be written up purely to stop that very thing from happening ever again.

“If anyone could have done it, it would have been you,” he murmured, earning a sharp glance from the three other agents in the room. He picked up a piece of paper, waving it in the air like a mock flag. “Alright, truce. I’m calling truce. No more pranks.”

“I never retaliated,” Reid said with a smirk, spinning the umbrella in one hand. “This was a one-man assault, I was innocent.” Wiping his hand across his forehead, Morgan frowned at how hot it was getting with four people in his office, reaching for the dial of the overhead fan.

Wait, was?

Almost involuntarily his hand twitched the dial on, only vaguely hearing the thump of the umbrella opening behind him and the girls’ startled cries as a cascade of colourful glitter showered upon them from the blades of the fan.

He turned, blinking glitter out his eyes and meeting Reid’s smug gaze as he sat safely under the shelter of the umbrella, fingers steepled like he was some sort of Bond-movie villain. “Checkmate,” Reid said standing and spinning the umbrella to clear the top of any remaining glitter as the air about them sparkled with settling glittery dust. He paused on his way out, looking over his shoulder at his three speechless co-workers. “Oh and by the way, Morgan… It was a dare. And there were four-hundred and eighty-six benches in total. I don’t _lose_.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Edited August, 2017.**


End file.
